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Oh! say not that the pictw:ings of youth
H. Q. B. WELLBURN'S MARY.
I marked the calm on her young fair face,
As grief s rude storm passed o'er it,
Of struggles that rushed before it.
As the shower on April's blossom
Drinks the tear from its virgin bosom.
The flush o'er her fair face went and came,
As I showed her a true-love token;
But her virgin heart was broken!
Eke the rose round the jessamine's twining;
Ere the red winter sun there was shining. •
Thomas Lyk. THE WIDOWED MOTHER.
Beside her babe, who sweetly slept,
O'er years of love gone by;
'Mid that sad lullaby.
Well might that lullaby be sad,
On this cold-hearted earth;
Who gave the orphan birth.
Stedfastly as a star doth look
She gazed upon the bosom And fair brow of her sleeping son— 'O merciful heaven! when I am gene
Thine is this earthly blossom!'
While thus she sat—a sunbeam broke
And from his cradle smiled!
The mother or her child!
With joy fresh-sprung from short alarms,
And to her bosom leapt—
'Forgive me! that I wept!'
Sufferings there are from nature sprung,
May venture to declare;
THE MARINER'S DREAM.
In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay,
His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind:
But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,
He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers,
While memory each scene gaily covered with flowers,
Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
Now far, far behind him the green waters glide,
The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch,
And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall;
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
VOL. III. I